Blood Of A Virgin
by The Hooded Menace
Summary: In the final fight against Voldemort, Ron finds himself losing someone he holds dear.


I, The Hooded Menace, am being mean. Luna doesn't deserve everything I make her go through, but she is such an inspiring character, my favorite. But I'm still a loveable person, so review!

Disclaimer - If I owned Harry Potter, it'd be called Luna Lovegood.

**Blood of a Virgin**

This was it; the final battle. The event that would determine whether the forces of terror would overwhelm their world, or if the final defenders of goodness would prevail. The final Horcrux had been destroyed, and now it was up to Harry Potter to kill Voldemort. Of course, Voldemort would not go down without a fight; and if he himself was a good fighter, then him aided by his devoted followers would be even better. And the last great hope of the wizarding world would not be alone either. Both sides amassed their forces, preparing to end it where it almost had seventeen years ago – Godric's Hollow. It had the perfect aura for a battlefield. It already felt like a graveyard. It already was.

The battle started at dusk, with an overly-bold Death Eater felling a member of the Order. Soon, the field was slick with the blood of the fallen. Both sides suffered heavy losses. Still, the fight raged on, and hope remained for the Order, as long as Harry lived. The Golden Trio fought as one, a nearly-invincible force. It looked like the tides were turning. Finally, Harry was able to face Voldemort. He forbade his friends and companions from interfering, but Voldemort wasn't so noble. The Order was kept busy keeping the Death Eaters from trying to hex Harry. Ron had just finished dispatching Goyle the Elder when he felt something sharp prod his abdomen.

"Do you know how it feels to die, boy?" hissed the voice of Lucius Malfoy, whose wand had been snapped earlier in the battle and who now held an elaborate dirk. "Let me show you."

Ron couldn't get to his wand. He believed that he was about to die. The instant the dirk was about to plunge into his flesh, a violet blur came between him and the weapon. It was Luna Lovegood. She saved his life, but sealed her fate, as the cold steel found its mark in her breast. With a sickening squelch, she pulled it out of her body and kindly returned it to Lucius the same way he gave it to her. Then, her body crumpled, and would have fallen if Ron hadn't been there to catch her. As fast as he dared, he moved her away from the battle. Gently, he sat down under a tree, cradling her in his arms. He tore his shirt off, trying to staunch the blood flow.

"The flowers that grow here will be beautiful," Luna spoke in her normal dreamy tone, "And excellent for potions. They will have special magical properties."

"What do you mean?" asked Ron, "Death surrounds us. What would grow here?"

She smiled, albeit sadly, looking at her wound. "Blood of a virgin. It makes plants exceptional. One type of flower will only grow on virgins' graves."

"Don't talk like that, Luna. You'll live, you must! I – I love you."

"And I love you too. I always did, even when you didn't notice me."

"I was a bloody fool not to," he said strongly, "And I won't be that dense again."

Her breaths became shallower. "My time is coming. You must let me go."

"No! You can't die!" Ron's voice shook, "I can't let you go!"

"Don't worry Ronald. I've got someone waiting for me," her voice becoming softer, "She'll be happy to know I found someone like you."

He started crying. "Don't leave me here alone!" he keened.

"Promise me you'll do one thing."

He leaned closer to hear her.

"Believe."

With that word, Luna Lovegood died.

The battle continued until morning, but for Ronald Weasly, it was over. And he had lost.

As it turned out, good triumphed over evil in the battle that night. With Voldemort gone, as well as his love, Ron traveled aimlessly around the world, searching for meaning. Nothing he saw filled the void left in his heart. He wished for death, until one day, when he found a little girl, dancing alone in the woods. He asked what she was doing, and she told him she was dancing with the faeries. When he said that he didn't see them, she shrugged. "I do," she said, and continued her dance. With that, he realized what Luna's last wish meant, and it gave him a new hope. When he died at the age of eighty-three, he was the leading expert on 'unconfirmed magical phenomenon' and the first man to have ever captured a live Crumple-Horned Snorlax. He died on a full moon.


End file.
